Bit Players
by Tsundere Lightning
Summary: The owner of the Shibuya branch of Pegaso Atelier has two very unusual customers... A slice of life story from the perspective of a bit player.


Bit Player

Akira Yoshii eyed the two children - teenagers, really, but they may as well have been children, coming to his store - without making it obvious he was doing so. On the (extremely small) chance that they were actually paying customers, it simply wouldn't do to unnerve them.

And if they weren't... well. Akira had replaced someone who let a vulgar and unpleasant Shibuya youth steal a very fine pair of gold watches out from under his nose. Akira would rather retire at a time of his choosing.

One at least had the look of someone who would seriously consider a purchase; she was dressed head to toe in gaudy, deep purple silk with lace highlights emulating a Victorian mode of dress; undoubtedly purchased from his noble competition at the Lapin Angelique branch in Shibuya. Her cuffs were pinned with two pins that he knew well: two sparkling, understated round cufflinks, each depicting a chess rook in blue silver with a large opal 'lightning bolt' in the center. Akira smiled. The Lightning Rook, inspired by the Tower arcana of the Tarot as much as the chess theme of Pegaso's line of cufflinks and hat pins.

The other one though - he looked like he had crashed through a 777 gig's wall. He was utterly festooned with graffito designs, mostly of skulls, and he looked both extremely nervous and very out of place. This one had very reluctantly left his skateboard at the front, as well as a canvas tote bag. Presumably he was here with an unexpectedly high-maintenance date.

The girl held her cell phone - a plain lavender one, quite unfitting for the rest of her outfit - over a silver watch, then over a gunmetal hatpin. She grunted and nodded at the last. There was something odd about that gesture that made Akira raise an eyebrow.

"Madame, I would highly recommend the Silver Baron. It goes well with almost any outfit; a fine compliment to our noble competition." 'The Silver Baron' was the name of that particular design of watch. Akira knew his entire inventory backwards, forwards and alphabetically.

"Yeah, I was looking at that," the girl said... wait. Did she - the customer - speak in a tenor? Or just a very low alto?

'Her' friend wincing at the low voice confirmed it. Akira frowned, slight enough that they were unlikely to notice. The customer - the boy - certainly had audacity and a sense of fashion, Akira would give him that, but that outfit wouldn't fly anywhere but Shibuya, for which Akira was thankful. What was the point? Even those with... alternative lifestyles... would probably prefer the punk fashions to a boy dressed as a girl, anyway.

He instead said, "It's a popular timepiece. I see that you're a fan of our other fine jewelry."

The boy laughed. "Blame Joshua for that," he said. "This isn't my first time here."

Akira's eyes widened. "Mr. Kiryu recommended this place?" _'To YOU?'_ remained unspoken.

"Course he would. Smug bastard is old money, the stuff here is all suits and richy-rich stuff," the other kid said below his breath.

"Suits him perfectly then. It's not nearly as flashy a money-sink as DC stuff. Hey, how much did you spend on that skull on a chain?" The kid grinned and took out a wallet. "I'll take the watch and that pin, sir. Should put the fear of God into what we're up against. Beat, you have any Rooks or Knights?"

"Go fish," the punk said, his nose flaring in disgust.

'Strike the fear of god into them.' How odd a turn of phrase. "Dressing to impress, madame?" he said, without a hint of irony in his voice.

"Oh yeah. Matter of life and death." He handed over the money.

"Dude, let's bounce. This place strike you as a bit, ah, noisy?" It was utterly silent except for the two other customers.

Which was, in itself, ominous, Akira found himself thinking: business had been brisk the last two weeks, but today... nothing. Monday had seen a customer or two, but then no one. It was disconcerting.

He suddenly found himself quiet, thinking. Listening.

"We're safe inside a tagged shop."

Tagged?

"Tagged with a C.A.T. design, man. This whole set-up reeks."

A part of him wanted to go out and clean the graffiti they seemed to be talking about. Another part of him found that... unwise.

"Is there something amiss, sir?" he asked.

The boy in head-to-toe gothic lolita fashion laughed. "Oh, you bet there is. But you just sold us the edge we need. Hey, Beat, you owe me a soft-serve," he added. "Told you the shopkeepers weren't former Players."

"I'll pay you back in a week."

"That's cold, Beat."

"We ain't losing, I just don't wanna hang around any longer that we got to."

Akira licked his lips. "Should I... Is there anything more I can do, sirs?"

The boy stopped, then put his hand on Akira's shoulder, an oddly welcome gesture. "Just stay here and keep doing what you're doing. If I... I'll be back in a week looking for a new wardrobe. I promise."

"I... see, sir," he said. "I look forward to it. And the very best of luck."

The kid nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Yoshii."

"You appear to have me at a disadvantage," Akira said, with a little effort. "You say you were here with Mr. Kiryu earlier?"

The teenager smiled and put on a pair of purple headphones, a JotM design. Ah. This was the same sullen child grudgingly following Mr. Kiryu from a week ago?

"Name is Neku. Neku Sakuraba. And, if I fail..." he sighed. "I won't fail. But I'm sorry you got caught up in this, too."

Akira's head was spinning. "Do what you must. And..." He turned and sighed at their retreating backs. "Do come again," he said.


End file.
